<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>let's spend the future talking about the past by Againstme</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107507">let's spend the future talking about the past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Againstme/pseuds/Againstme'>Againstme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(as in after s5), Angst, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, things that made the server scream at me, uhhhh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:56:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Againstme/pseuds/Againstme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The tape recorders don't stop coming after it ends. It doesn't take long for Martin to decide that their presence hurts more than it probably should. It's like rubbing salt in the wound or scratching at it, keeping it fresh, refusing to let it heal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's spend the future talking about the past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from The End by Daughter</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tape recorders don't stop coming after it ends. They're not as ubiquitous, sure, but they come often enough that it doesn't take long for Martin to decide that their presence hurts more than it probably should. It's like rubbing salt in the wound or scratching at it, keeping it fresh, refusing to let it heal.</p><p>Martin waits it out for the first month, then the second, staying carefully silent as the tape spins, waiting for it to get bored and turn off on its own. </p><p>(He's tried clicking them off. He tried desperately with the first one. Threw it against a wall, trying not to sob too audibly, not to feed the thing behind it. It didn't help.)</p><p>It's early February, a little over three months since Jon, when Martin finally gives in and speaks to it. He's alone in the cold loft and the silence makes his word seem so loud he flinches at the way the "I miss you" seems to bounce off the walls.</p><p>Once he's said those first words, it's hard to not continue speaking. It's hard to keep it all in like a dam has been broken of every single thought he's had since he's last seen Jon.</p><p>He says, "I miss you." He says, "Don't worry I'm not alone again, I've been living with Basira." He says, "I wish you were here, I love you." He says, "You'd love it here." He says, "I miss you. I miss you. <em>I miss you</em>, Jon."</p><p>Martin doesn't know when the tape recorders became Jon. He doesn't know when they stopped being weak echoes of the Beholding and the institute, when they became echoes of the man he loved instead. He tries not to think about it, the pain in his heart too much to bear if he lets himself dwell on these things too long.</p><p>The first time Georgie sees him pull a tape recorder out of his bag, she does a double-take, "You're still getting those?" she asks, her tone careful, like she's scared if she's too rough with him Martin might run away.</p><p>"I-I don't," he stumbles through his words, trying to find something to say that doesn't seem as damning as the truth without actually lying, "They never stopped coming. It's no use spending all my time trying to get rid of them."</p><p>"Isn't it?" Her eyes are fixed on the recorder in his hand, her lips pressed tightly together, "Do you talk to those things?"</p><p>"Sometimes," Martin doesn't want to lie. Doesn't want to be caught in his lies, but the truth hurts just as much, "Only when I'm alone. It feels," his voice catches in his throat and he clears it quickly, "It feels like talking to him. Sometimes."</p><p>Georgie sighs, finally looking up at him, pity obvious in her eyes, "Martin, it isn't him."</p><p>"I know it's not!" He can feel his eyes burn as his vision blurs, tears forming despite his best efforts, "I just, I can't just move on, I don't have anyone else and it's nice to think sometimes that he would be here for me, that he'd care enough to want to keep an eye - an ear - on me."</p><p>Georgie stays silent for a few seconds, before passing a hand through his hair and sighing, "Look, it's your life, so long as you don't bring those in my house you're free to do what you want. But do you really believe that Jon would force you to live in the past like this? Refuse to let you go and move on?"</p><p>Instinctively, Martin wants to say that he wouldn't. He'd stick around for the first few months perhaps, but not like this, still going and haunting him nearly a year later.</p><p>But Jon, well, Jon had the time to get used to listening silently, to haunt people in their nightmares, bring back old trauma over and over and over without offering an escape from it.</p><p>Maybe... Maybe Martin just wants to keep this last piece of the past with him. After everything, he deserves it.</p><p>In his hand, the tape recorder clicks off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted on tumblr.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed!</p><p>Comment/Kudos appreciated!</p><p>You can find me on tumblr <a href="https://manletjon.tumblr.com/">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>